Stroke by stroke, guided by the flow of the music from the live band, the six exhibition-mature artist brought a palate of colours together and blended them with his unique mystical painting style. The combination injected an avant-garde eclecticism into the prevailing Kathmandu art scene.
It was on July 31 when people got to peek into the life of Krishna while he was painting.
“The music had a calming effect on the busy restro-bar, and even people who aren’t art connoisseurs enjoyed watching him fill in colours on blank canvases,” says Neha Shah, the owner of Long Alley.
“Music soothes the ears, and paintings soothe the eyes” Krishna says passionately. “Also, I wanted this exhibition to demonstrate my art as an extension of my personality, and music features prominently in it,” he added.
“My art is not reality but more like the shadow of reality that arouses my imagination,” explains the 30-year-old artist. “Every artist has his/her own unique perception of how s/he feels reality; and in exploring that, one can find idiosyncrasies as a painter,” he adds. For him, music helps his imagination enter a channelized flow and takes his imagination to a level of creative consciousness.
He grew up amid colours and thanka painters at his uncle’s painting school next to his home. At 13, he touched thanka for the first time; by 15, he was a professional. Some 17 years and a rollercoaster ride of a career later, he has realised that painting is his calling and has committed himself to be better with each stroke.
“I didn’t start painting to take up art. I had to support my family by painting thanka,” he says in a rather matter-of-fact tone. This meant that the more attentive he was, the better work he came up with, and the pay got better. “My attention to detail today is because of this discipline that I learnt from painting thankas early on in life.”Rightfully so, even at first glance, what strikes is his attention to detail that sheds light on the hard work that has gone into creating it to its finery. Inspired by the mysticism of Hinduism and Buddhism, this genre of spiritual painting speaks volumes of his disciplined knowledge and experience that he gained from being a professional Thanka artist for five years.
But he admits, “Ironically, beyond a point, Thanka painting restricted my imagination because I was making the same things over and over again,” he says, holding his head in tedium. “I needed to break away from this humdrum to identify my style and find myself in my work in such a way that it reflected my personality.”
This discipline, combined with the bursts of his imagination, makes his works only one of its kind. Ranging in prices from Rs. 4,500 to Rs. 25,000, his paintings are created on handmade paper, using acrylic and watercolours as mediums of expression.
“I want my paintings to dry faster, and the smell of oil painting doesn’t appeal to me much,” he says, wrinkling his nose as if he can smell it right now.
“I experienced a lot of hardship in making a career out of my art,” he recalls. Ten years ago, he stopped working as a thanka artist for someone else, and set out to start his own enterprise.
In 1999, he started with four partners, four canvases and a mere four thousand Rupees between the four of them. Unfortunately, less than two years later, the business collapsed. He ended up thoroughly disappointed with himself and his desire to be an artist.
“It drove me to my emotional bottom, and I quit painting for a few months,” he remembers, clasping his head and shaking it vigorously from side to side. Working at a thanka shop as a shopkeeper and painting instructor, and his self esteem being so low, he even gave away his work as complimentary gifts to clients.
“But there came a German lady in 2003,” he remembers with fondness. “She forced me to take 20 Euros and chided me for cheapening art of such high quality by giving it for free.”
Seven years have passed since the day. The visitor’s remark touched him so deeply that he locked himself at home for three months and just worked for hours on end.
He held an exhibition for the first time in 2004. In May 2009, the National Geographic Channel featured him on a global documentary on fine artists.
“It doesn’t pay much, and it’s difficult to make ends meet at times,” he concludes, “but as long as I have enough to get by, and people appreciating my painting, I’m happy.” After all, how many people get to heed their calling in a lifetime?
(Krishna Thing’s paintings are on exhibition for a month at the Long Alley Restaurant and Bar, Lazimpat.)
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